Roger
by Zee Viate
Summary: Tony's past good deed complicates his present life. Father/son undercurrent.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **For a number of different reasons, I posted NCIS stories under different pen names. I'm re-posting this one because I want to bring all my stories under one name.

Until now, I've re-posted all the stories as one chapter. But, I've gotten PMs saying the stories would be easier to read posted in individual chapters. So, I'm going to post this and the other WIP as requested. I hope to post more to at least one of my WIPs soon and to eventually finish them all.

* * *

Roger closed the bedroom door behind him and pulled the newspaper from where it had been hidden under his jacket, held pressed snug against his body. She couldn't see it or it might set her off. If the photo had caught his eye, it could just as easily catch hers.

He had been shocked then thrilled to see the small picture on the bottom fold of the front page though the joy had been dampened by concern when he read the writing underneath, _NCIS agent wounded in hostage rescue_.

He'd been relieved to read that the injuries weren't life threatening and he was expected to make a full recovery. It would have hurt to know that that bright spot in his past had died even though it wasn't a memory he examined often. Bright spots were so rare and should have been precious. But, to consciously treasure them was to force a compare and contrast with the rest of his life that was so painful to endure that he rarely deliberately chose to remember.

There were so few, too few, bright spots among the gray and black of the preceding years and the present . He fought that thought, that oppressive fact that led to despair and anger, fearful it might unleash the mood that could drag him to the dangerous place. Shaking it off, he sat at his desk and laid the paper flat to stare again at the face.

It had been over twenty years, but the face was still recognizable underneath the age. A very different expression in the agency id photo; serious, almost defiant. Not the fizzing effervescence, the huge, cocky grin he remembered. But, the Anthony DiNozzo, Jr. of back then still showed in the Anthony DiNozzo, Jr. of now.

His mood sank a notch as he realized the same couldn't be said of himself. The Roger Walker of back then was gone, buried under, even using the most lenient online body mass calculator, at least 67 pounds of excess pale and wobbly flesh. Buried and dead. The Roger of back then who still had hopes and aspirations was long gone.

One of those hopes had been that he would see Tony again, that the connection he'd felt in the twenty-nine hours he'd spent with him would carry on and grow and become a part of his life. He had imagined being Tony's best friend, like a brother, being like Tony who was everything he would have liked to have been. It was a hope he'd clung to longer than most.

But, that hope had been dashed and eventually died like all the others. He'd never seen Tony again, the only mention of him outside his own private and silent wishes was her tirades of venom and blame. Roger didn't believe her but neither did he dare defend Tony to her. Roger had, even at that young age, already resigned himself to his fate and existed without rocking the boat on the outside and maintaining control on the inside. He'd managed to skim his way through life living with very rare exceptions to those policies, exceptions that had very nasty consequences. He recalled the price when those consequences were visited on him and the shame when he'd been the one to exact the consequence, lashing out from his dangerous place.

Seeing that face again, though, stirred in his chest a spark among long cold ashes. A daring desire to take a chance, wanting more; a life rather than an existence, a friend like Tony. The article said he'd been an agent in D.C for the past seven years, only 30 minutes from where Henry lived.

For seven years, an old hope had been that close. In spite of the difference in ages, he and Tony had hit it off back then. They should get along even better now that they were both grown men; the eight year difference wouldn't matter. Excitement and joyous anticipation bubbled into his consciousness, the feelings so foreign to him they struck him giddy at the thought of his wish finally coming true.


	2. Chapter 2

Gibbs, a fresh and steaming mug of coffee in hand, turned the corner onto the corridor and was faced with an unexpected scene. Abby stood before the doorway to DiNozzo's room, a ferocious glare on her face, arms outstretched, palms against the wall on either side, blocking the entrance.

In front of her was the bane of his recent existence, Monica Wilson, standing angrily akimbo alongside an unnerved-looking young man holding a camera. Abby caught sight of Gibbs and spoke without dropping her arms.

"I stepped away for two minutes to make a call and come back and catch Miss Bimbo-look-at-me-world trying to sneak in for a photo op with Tony!"

"You're just jealous he doesn't go for over-the-hill vampire wannabes," Monica shot back.

A bit of coffee sloshed out onto the floor as Gibbs moved quickly to place his body between the two of them, his back to Abby. She craned her neck over his shoulder to address the photographer.

"You wanna better, juicier story complete with pictures?" She turned a glare on the other woman.

"Cleveland, 2006."

Monica's jaw dropped and an evilly smug smile appeared on Scuito's face. After a second, Wilson glared at Abby, spit out a "Bitch!" in her direction, whirled on her four-inch stiletto and stalked away.

Gibbs turned to the photographer.

"Out. You come back, I'll take you in on trespass."

The man scurried off.

Gibbs turned to Abby and raised an eyebrow.

"Cleveland?" he asked.

"Remember when I had to leave for a while or commit justifiable homicide of the world's most irritating female? I got my laptop out of the car and did some research. You don't want to know 'cause the records are sealed and plausible deniability could come in handy on down the line. But, it's all printed and collated for Tony's reading and viewing pleasure in case he ever has a complete common sense fail and considers asking her out again."

Gibbs over-rode his curiosity and let the matter drop. He'd most likely have to face the woman again, at least until Tony was able to tell her they were through. Enduring her company was hard enough without adding any informational flame to the fire. He'd wait for answers until after he knew she was gone for good.

Maintaining his typical chivalry towards a woman had been difficult throughout the nine, long hours in her forced company. Hours broken only by her leaving to give press and print interviews about her ordeal and how her 'boyfriend' had heroically saved the day.

When he had spoken to the Metro detective who had worked the scene and had stopped by the hospital to inquire after Tony's condition, Gibbs learned witness statements said Monica's ordeal had consisted of loud, hysterical panic that refused Tony's efforts to calm her. Her display had agitated the perpetrator and forced Tony's hand to take action to save the hostage's life. DiNozzo was an excellent negotiator and it was very possible that, given the chance, he could have talked the guy down rather than taking two bullets. Gibbs had worked to control the resentment that Tony's date may have been responsible for him being shot.

Seemingly unconcerned or oblivious to her provocation of the shooting, the woman was soaking up the un-owed spotlight like a narcissistic sponge, emoting like a soap star in the fifteen-second 11:00 local news clip they'd seen on the waiting room tv. Monica Wilson, a tall, late-twenties, blue-eyed, striking brunette would have fit right into any show's cast; at least looks-wise. She was model-caliber gorgeous.

Unfortunately, the appreciation of her beauty was quickly and largely negated by her vacuous, self-absorbed personality.

Tonight had been DiNozzo's first date with Monica. A first date interrupted at its start when they'd entered the restaurant and stumbled onto the hostage situation of a man holding a gun to the head of his estranged wife who'd been dining with a new man who lay bleeding on the floor from a gunshot wound to the chest.

Even though Monica was a knock-out, Gibbs believed that first date would also be the last. It was unfortunate that she was publicly personifying the myth Tony himself perpetuated. Gibbs knew better. DiNozzo loved the pursuit of beautiful women. But, he never callously used them and he wouldn't have put up with the sum of Monica just to put another notch on his bedpost.

Gibbs was regretting not trying to muzzle or counter-act her earlier. It most likely would have been a futile effort, though. He couldn't stop her giving the interviews. But, he could have given one himself, making plain that Monica Wilson was not the soul mate she was painting herself to be.

While he couldn't control her speaking to the media, fortunately, as DiNozzo's medical proxy, he could control her time in his room. He'd allowed her the first visit alone at the unconscious man's side after he'd been moved to a regular room. After ten minutes, he'd told Tim to go on in. Gibbs had expected she'd leave when McGee entered, but she hadn't.

She'd stayed, holding DiNozzo's limp hand, as if they were a devoted couple of long-standing. If they hadn't already been given the good news that Tony was out of the woods, he'd have kicked her out on her ass right then and allowed DiNozzo's friends private time with him.

But, the woman had already proven she was capable of a hissy fit. Since Gibbs preferred to avoid any dramatic scene playing out in Bethesda, he didn't step in to evict her right away. If Tim wanted time alone with Tony, he'd let Tim tell her so. McGee would no doubt have handled the request with much more tact than Jethro would have.

She'd already been pissed at Jethro before entering Tony's room. Monica had been offended when Gibbs had made surrender of her cell phone a condition of her entering the room in the first place. He hadn't made any explanation or reacted to her teary-eyed expression of hurt feelings. He'd just held out his hand until, with a glare, she'd handed over the cell.

Gibbs, on arriving at the hospital, had seen her outside speaking to reporters. The almost three hours he'd spent with her while Tony was in surgery did nothing to inspire any confidence in her integrity or judgment. Especially her eagerness to immediately jump up and accompany any media people who made their way to the waiting room.

He wasn't taking any chance that a picture of Tony unconscious, his hand clasped by lovelorn Monica Nightingale, would appear in tomorrow's paper. DiNozzo would have been mortified to have such an unflattering photo of himself lying weak and unkempt appear in print. Her attempts to sneak the photographer in proved the confiscation of her phone had been a wise move.

He and Abby had sat in the waiting room while Tim, Ducky and Jimmy had time with Tony, Monica never leaving as they came and went. While the rest of the team let it go, Gibbs knew it was unwise to leave Abby and Monica unattended alone together. He'd used looks and words to rein-in the forensics whiz numerous times during the long night when he knew she was about to progress from veiled catty responses to a claws all out confrontation.

So, he had evicted her when it was Abby's time, grateful that her response to his "You need to go now and give us some time alone with him." was only a glare and a silent departure. Until her stealthy return with the photographer in tow.

For now, she was gone. Along with relief, he was hit by the sudden weight of deferred exhaustion. He pulled Abby into a hug, kissed her cheek then entered Tony's room and took a seat in one of the chairs by the bed. Gibbs looked down on his second in command and his friend, immensely grateful that DiNozzo once again had managed to survive to fight another day. He reached a hand through the bed rails and rested it atop Tony's forearm, closed his eyes and settled in to wait for Tony to wake.


	3. Chapter 3

Gibbs was awake again and waiting. He'd only dozed off in a few, very brief snatches of time, worry interfering with his sleep more than the uncomfortable chair.

The doctors had assured him that DiNozzo, barring any unforeseen and very unlikely complications, would survive. And, though not guaranteed, they thought odds were good he'd eventually make a complete physical recovery.

It hadn't been the physical repercussions that nagged at Gibbs, that made him almost desperate to speak to DiNozzo. It was the other thing the doctors had said. That, due to the heavy blood loss, there was a chance that there could be some loss of cognitive brain function.

They didn't believe that to be the case. Even though the likelihood was small, it was there and they wanted him to be aware of the possibility. He hadn't shared that information with the rest of the team; only given them the good news that DiNozzo would be fine. He was sure Ducky was aware of the chance but, thankfully, didn't contradict Gibbs' pronouncement that all would be well. Which it would be, Jethro was certain. But, underneath the obstinately optimistic certainty was a fear that he fought to ignore and deny. A fear that wouldn't be allayed until he was able to speak to DiNozzo.

The arm beneath his hand moved. Gibbs tightened his grip and straightened in the chair and waited a moment, watching Tony stir, before speaking.

"DiNozzo, you with me?"

The answer was a sudden attempt by Tony to sit up, a movement that provoked a pained moan as he fell back onto the bed. Gibbs pressed the call button then moved one hand to cup DiNozzo's face, the other hand on his shoulder to hold him down.

"Easy, Tony. Be still."

A nurse came into the room and silently assessed the situation as DiNozzo opened his eyes, blinking and unfocused. She adjusted the iv flow.

"You'll feel better in just a minute, Agent DiNozzo." She grabbed the clip board from the foot of the bed and, glancing back and forth to the machines connected to Tony, made notations of their readings.

"Just a couple of questions and we'll let you rest," she said. "Can you tell me the month and the year?"

He blinked up at her before mumbling "September, 2009."

"Very good. And the name of the gentlemen sitting there?"

"Boss." His eyes closed again and the nurse smiled.

"That'll do. You rest now."

As Gibbs watched, Tony's pain-etched face relaxed.

"DiNozzo," he said, not wanting him to sleep again before they talked.

The nurse answered.

"He'll be out for a while. We wanted him to wake on his own post-op so we backed off on the sedatives and analgesics. I've given him enough to help him sleep comfortably and sleep's the best thing for him now."

Gibbs felt a flash of disappointment that, after waiting all those long hours, he'd have to wait longer still to speak to Tony.

* * *

The closet door was opened to reveal the full length mirror attached to its inside surface. Roger stood before it, disheartened and frustrated. Only his work uniforms still hung on the bar inside. Except for the clothes on his back, the rest of his meager wardrobe was flung over his bed.

He'd tried everything on; this was his second go-round with the outfit he wore now. He'd rejected it on first try-on but was forced now to concede he looked better in it than he did any of the others. He didn't look good, he didn't delude himself that he would look good in anything.

But, the khaki pants weren't too tight and the white with blue pin stripes button-down was the best fitting shirt of the bunch. Vertical stripes were supposed to be slimming. While no pattern could camouflage the bulk underneath, they didn't accentuate it like the paisley did. The color did nothing for him, the white only emphasizing the paleness of his face. But, the placket didn't pucker with gaping gaps between the buttons or overly strain and tighten over his gut.

He sighed and decided it would have to do, this would be his outfit for tomorrow morning when he went to Bethesda.

He decided, too, that, tomorrow, after he visited Tony, he would go buy new clothes. It had been a long time since he'd cared what he wore. He had his uniforms for work and his sweats for home and had no need for nice outfits since he so rarely went out. But, that was about to change. He couldn't wear the same thing two days in a row to visit Tony and he doubted Tony would be released for at least a few days.

After Tony's release, he'd need even more clothes. Something to wear out to the bar for beers, to a ball game, to hang out with a friend. He knew Tony wasn't the type to sit at home, Tony was the out and about type and Roger would have to have a wardrobe to keep up. A new wardrobe to go with a new life.

At least one of the new shirts would be the same shade of blue as the shirt sealed inside a jumbo zip-lock bag, hidden under a blanket on his closet shelf. Carol had said it favored him, brought out the blue in his eyes and the color in his face. During those thirty-nine days, he'd worn the shirt often. Because it was her favorite and he had looked good in it back when he could still look good. He wished he had a shirt that color he could wear tomorrow.

The one in his closet was way too small now. Even if it had fit, he wouldn't have worn it. He didn't keep it to wear, he kept it for the essence of spice and flowers that, he hoped, was still trapped in its fibers. It had been years since he'd pulled it out and breathed it in, remembering how it had felt, Carol's cheek against his shoulder and Carol's perfume scenting the moment and how different and happy he had felt those times. He kept those memories as sealed away as he did the shirt. Too painful. He fought down the feelings that tried to rise up. He was not going to remember and grieve again. That was the past, done and gone. Tonight was the eve of the beginning of his new and better life.

* * *

There was no movement this time to alert him that Tony had awakened; he'd just sensed the stare and looked over and seen the green eyes open.

"Hey."

"Hey." Tony's answering voice was weak and raspy. Gibbs grabbed the pitcher and poured water into the plastic hospital mug and held it so Tony could drink from the straw.

"The boyfriend made it. He's gonna be okay, thanks to you. If it had been a few minutes longer, he'd have bled out. No other casualties. Except you."

"And, me?" Tony asked.

"You're gonna be okay, too. It'll take a while, but, full recovery. It was a through and through in your thigh, broke the bone. The chest shot skimmed and dug in and broke a couple ribs."

Gibbs kept his tone impassive, hiding the wrenching remembrance of the surgeon's statement that, had the angle of the shot varied by only a couple of millimeters, the bullet would have ripped through his heart rather than muscle and bone.

DiNozzo, in a drug-induced lethargy, didn't respond. Jethro was impatient to know that Tony was still Tony with all his personality and intelligence intact and latched onto the first thing he thought of to force a conversation.

"I met Monica," Gibbs said. "What the hell were you thinking?"

"You saw her and you're asking that?"

Gibbs glared and Tony sighed.

"I was thinking that I should've talked to her longer before I asked her out. But, you called that night and and I had to go. Before all hell broke loose, I was thinking, gentleman that I am, I'd hang on till after we'd finished dinner before I went to the head and sent out a GMOH."

Gibbs recognized the acronym and remembered the one and only time he'd heard it.

_Abby had stayed late to finish running tests and he'd gone to her lab to pick up the results. She'd received a text, read it , waited a moment then hit a speed dial key on her phone. _

"_Hey, bad news. The Morlocks have escaped and all the Elois are in danger and Bossman says toot suite back on the job cause it's round-up time!" She listened a few seconds, then spoke again. "He's here, can't play, so yada-yada-yada and good-bye!" She ended the call and looked to Gibbs._

"_Well, that was no fun. You crimped my style. Usually, I pretend to be you and he whines and I growl back and forth for a while and it's like a crazy, bizarro world, improv kinda thing. Fun."_

_Gibbs squinted at her, wondering what the hell she was going on about._

"_Tony sent me a GMOH. Ever since-" She stopped speaking suddenly. _

"_You don't need to know the particular circumstance that made him realize it was smart to have an early out and I promised never to tell so don't ask how it started and forget I started to bring it up. It wasn't really his fault; you'd have never known by looking that she was a total fruit-loop with huge potential to rapidly progress to bunny-boiler stage." _

"_Anyway, there are times that Tony, or I, need a tactful extrication from bad romance situations before they turn into disasters, so we came up with the coded text, like an SOS only not so obvious. GMOH, for 'Get Me Outta Here' and, thirty seconds later, allowing time to get into position so the phone rings in front of the undesired company, we get the call pretending to be you ordering us into work. My you is good but Tony does a really killer, over-the-top you. Some of the of the Gibbs slap threats are very creative and can get kinda ki-" She suddenly stopped speaking and winced. "Uhh, never mind. Could you forget I mentioned that, too?"_

Gibbs had never told DiNozzo he knew of the GMOH or his impersonations of him. If he wasn't so damned grateful and relieved to have Tony alive and awake, he'd have asked him what it meant and been entertained by Tony's attempts, while under the influence of pain killers, to explain without spilling too many beans.

"I really coulda used a GMOH last night," Jethro said. "For about ten hours, I was stuck dealing with her."

Tony scowled up at him. "Really? You're really gonna sit there and complain to me about Monica when I'm lying here bullet-riddled? Well, excuse me, my abject apologies for not being conscious and able to take her off your hands."

Gibbs almost smiled at the wounded, petulant tone. While they were a little loopy at the moment, DiNozzo's faculties seemed intact.

"You had it easier. That woman's a real piece of work. She's been on the TV making like you're engaged and tried to sneak a news photographer into your room when you were out."

Tony looked aghast. "She got pictures?"

"No, I took her phone before she came in your room and chased the photographer off. Like you're gonna chase her off. For good, I hope, but at least away from me."

Before Tony could respond, the door opened. Gibbs thought how appropriate the phrase 'speak of the devil' was as Monica Wilson walked into the room.


	4. Chapter 4

Roger entered the hospital, anxiety and exhilaration twirling together in a disconcerting whirl in his gut. He was still feeling a bit of the rush from accomplishing his first mission of the day, when he'd managed to sneak out without her noticing. Had he been caught, he had an alibi at the ready-visitation for a deceased co-worker.

He stopped at the information counter and asked for Tony's room number. When he turned to head for the elevators, he saw her exit the ladies room. He recognized her from the newscast as Monica Wilson, Tony's girlfriend. She was gorgeous, even lovelier than she had looked on TV. Just the sort of woman he would have expected Tony to have, to match up with his movie star looks and larger than life personality. He wondered if she was a model. She most certainly could have been.

Roger watched her walk to a woman in a beige pantsuit and a man in jeans with a video camera slung over his shoulder and he moved a few steps closer to hear Monica speak.

"Just give me a minute to set it up, okay? He's a very humble man and doesn't want a big fuss. But, with so much bad news in the world, I think it's important to show the good side, too, the heroes as well as the bad guys, and I'm sure he'll understand that and go for it."

The pair agreed to wait and Monica walked to the elevators and pressed the up call button. Roger froze, suddenly realizing that this beautiful woman was part of Tony's life, a life he intended to share. He'd been a fool to think he could just waltz into Tony's life and be his friend. How could he fit into the lives of two such beautiful and accomplished people? He felt his new future begin to evaporate in the reality of what they were and what he was and he struggled to hang onto his new hope.

Tony didn't care about looks or jobs or any of that. Tony hadn't cared way back then when he'd gone out of his way; a big and handsome and strong and so alive teenager coming to the aid of a mousey, scrawny, pathetic boy. Tony had been kind and had seen Roger as worthy of his care and attention. Tony had had a good heart back then, he'd have it still. A man with that big and good a heart wouldn't love a woman not the same.

Roger forced himself forward, hurrying to slip between the doors as they began to close. He stood beside Monica, who ignored him. Fighting the intimidation he felt, he opened his mouth to introduce himself. As if she sensed his intentions, she just then gave him a sidelong glance, her gaze making a quick sweep of him up and down. A look of contempt bordering on disgust came over her beautiful features and an eyebrow raised as she glared a warning before facing back front and ignoring him again.

When they reached the fourth floor, the elevator doors opened and Monica exited and walked away. Roger stayed standing still inside as the doors closed again.

* * *

As Monica entered the room, Gibbs flashed back to his youth, times spent beside his dad on the couch watching a corny old show on TV. Jack had claimed he watched Hee Haw for the music and the humor. But, Jethro believed it was his appreciation of the jacked-up and daringly displayed cleavage of the female cast that brought him back to watch week after week. Monica's exceedingly bared breasts, even though they spilled out from teal silk rather than gingham, were perched as improbably high and tight as the ladies' of Kornfield Kounty had been back then.

Monica approached Tony's bed with an expression she hadn't previously worn in Gibbs' presence. The spiteful, condescending air she'd had most of last night was switched now to a flirty and concerned attitude.

"Hey, how's my hero feeling today?" She leaned her bosom toward Tony's face before adjusting her approach to plant a kiss on his cheek.

Then, she straightened and gave a pointed look at Gibbs, as if he were an interloper expected to leave. Gibbs just stared blandly back, not deigning her worthy of a glare, crossed his arms over his chest and stretched his legs out, making a point of getting comfortable and settled in.

She forced a grin and spoke to Jethro.

"I'd like to visit with Tony a while."

"So, visit," Gibbs said. She had a helluva nerve trying to shoo him away after she'd been stuck like a leech to the chair last night throughout DiNozzo's friends' visits. No way was he leaving now.

Had this actually been anything close to a real relationship, he'd have given them privacy. Even for what the woman was, had DiNozzo been himself, he'd have left him to fight his own battle alone. But, Tony was in a drug-addled, vulnerable state. Said drugs obviously no match for his libido since his bleary gaze was glued to the honey trap. He was afraid DiNozzo wouldn't be able to stay on task if left alone with her.

Monica dropped the grin and shot a venomous look at Jethro before morphing her features back into sweetness and light and turning back to Tony.

"Honey, I'd like to spend some time just you and me, private. Okay?"

Tony grinned goofily up at her. "Okay."

Gibbs wanted to give him a typical head whack or bark out a 'DiNozzo!' to get his attention and set him back on track. But, it wasn't really appropriate that he be seen obviously ordering or pulling the strings in this personal rather than work situation. So, he just waited, aiming an intense glare at DiNozzo that he hoped would get the message across whenever Tony glanced his way.

A minute went by, DiNozzo staring up at Monica; Monica cutting her eyes and inclining her head towards Jethro and Tony missing all the non-verbal prompts she was trying to give him. Jethro wondered if she had the nerve to give up on DiNozzo and directly confront him and try to kick him out herself.

Finally, DiNozzo clued-in when she pointed an index finger tipped with a perfectly manicured, long, glossy peachy nail to Gibbs and Tony followed its direction to find his boss.

"Oh," he said, as if just remembering Jethro was there. Then, wincing slightly as the glare registered, "Uhhh..." as if just remembering his mission was to get rid of the woman. He looked back to Monica.

"We don't need to be private 'cause we're not gonna date anymore. Or, see each other again. Or, anything."

Monica threw on a shocked look. "Why not?"

"'Cause you're really nice on the outside but you're not nice on the inside,"

The look on DiNozzo's face was almost mournful at the shame of it all.

"Oh, Tony" she said with a stricken expression, tears gathering on cue in the big blue eyes. She gripped the bed rails and leaned her chest eye level to Tony.

"You don't even know me yet, how can you say that?"

Tony, even though his senses were muddled and his gaze wandered to the bait, remained intent on his mission.

"From the thirty minutes in the car and the fit you threw at the restaurant."

He looked back to her face and frowned.

"I know how you are. I almost got killed keeping him from killing you. And, that's not good 'cause I don't wanna die."

"But-"

Gibbs cut her off before she could say more.

"You got anything else to say, DiNozzo?"

"Nope."

Gibbs spoke to Monica.

"It's time for you to leave."

When she didn't move and was about to speak again, Gibbs stopped her with a low spoken but steely and emphatic

"Now."

For a few seconds, she stood there, darkening and fuming, flexing her fingers in and out of fists as if she wanted to use those perfect, peachy nails to claw Jethro's eyes out. Then, as if realizing this was a fight she couldn't win, she took a moment to force herself calmer, gave a head toss that tousled her hair, put both hands on her hips, chest out, in a defiant pose and said

"Fine. Your loss, not mine."

Then, Monica left the room.


	5. Chapter 5

Roger strolled casually down the sidewalk, hoodie carefully draped over his left arm, as bland and inconspicuous as always. Outside, he looked the same. Inside, though, he was a different man. A new man now intent on a painful but necessary mission. A mission he would accomplish because he wasn't afraid anymore; he was New Roger, bright and brave.

Old Roger had died in an elevator earlier today. One contemptuous glance had destroyed Old Roger's hopes and stolen his future. Shattered him, left him devastated and trapped back in the bland and lonely existence he'd been in for so long. Even though it was a prison of his own making, he didn't dare try to escape. Many years ago, panicked revulsion and an overwhelming shame had locked him inside himself to be certain he'd never cross over into that dangerous place again.

But, as he'd stood going down in the elevator, despairing and resigned, something inside stirred in the void and fought and rebelled against returning to that miserable and pathetic life. That so lonely life. New Roger had fought his way out of himself, escaped and refused to be shackled again.

At the moment, New Roger was approaching his intended destination. As the sidewalk neared his building, a stone retaining wall began and rose up a few feet from the ground. In the spring, flowers would bloom above it. Sometimes, Roger would sit on the wall with the flowers behind him and surreptitiously, never making eye contact, he'd people-watch, imagining where they were headed and where they'd been.

There was a spot in the sidewalk where, recently, a small chunk of cement had broken away at the juncture where two slabs met. He knew this because, a few days ago, the toe of his shoe had caught that gap and he'd stumbled and almost fallen. One of the rude kids that liked to zoom along the sidewalk on his wheeled shoes had laughed at him and Old Roger had scurried away in humiliation.

New Roger hurried his pace as he approached that gap. As he came upon it, he deliberately planted the tip of his shoe in it, simultaneously yanking the hoodie from his arm. He pitched violently forward, the stone wall gouging flesh from his arm as he fell.

* * *

It was after 10:00pm, six days after Tony had come to after his surgery, when Gibbs pulled the cardboard labeling off the tubular steel and fit the frame around the downstairs toilet. Earlier in the day, he'd placed a wooden ramp over the steps to his front porch. Tony was due out tomorrow and would be in a wheelchair for at least a week, maybe longer, after his release. Until was healed enough to safely navigate stairs on crutches, he would be staying at Jethro's house rather than his fourth floor apartment in a building with an iffy elevator.

Gibbs had made the ramp himself, along with a rudimentary stand that was in his den with Tony's smaller bedroom TV from his apartment sitting on top and a few DVDs placed on the shelf below. Abby had picked them up today after work and dropped them off for Tony, movies she said he didn't already have and would like. If he wanted any favorites from his vast collection, they could grab them for him later.

Jethro had dug up and attached a pair of rabbit ears to the television and it got reasonable reception from a few local stations. DiNozzo would probably bitch and moan at the less than ideal choice and quality. But, Tony would have his DVDs and his laptop to watch. Jethro wasn't going to run cable into his house. Until he was free from the forced confinement, Tony would still be bitching and moaning, even if he had HD and a thousand channels to choose from. The man was antsy, impatient to be out of the hospital and up on his feet, and got more annoying with each day.

He was also in intense pain from knitting bone and muscle and nerves and the physical therapy necessary to regain function. Pain that was a consequence of an heroic act, a fact Jethro reminded himself of when DiNozzo was pissy or complaining. And, complain he did. About everything but the pain.

Jehtro felt a spike of anger towards Monica Wilson, the cause of all the hurt. He had known early on, from talking to the Metro detective, that she'd been hysterical and provoked the shooter. Since then, he'd found out that she had ignored the perp's warning to shut up or he'd shoot her. When she kept on, he had aimed the pistol, about to pull the trigger when Tony had intervened to subdue him and taken the bullets meant for her.

Jethro walked into the den and was debating whether to head to the basement or crash on the couch when, through the curtains, he saw headlight beams move up his driveway. He opened the door and stepped out onto the porch. Tobias Fornell, dressed in jeans and a green polo shirt with a large kraft envelope in hand, walked over to join him. He glanced down at the ramp as he stepped up.

"He coming here when he gets out?"

"Yeah." Jethro looked down to the envelope in Tobias' hand. "You come here to ask me that?"

"No. You got a beer? I'm thirsty."

Tobias followed Jethro to the kitchen. Gibbs pulled two bottles from the fridge, handed one over and twisted the top off his own. Fornell went to the table and sat, placing the envelope on the tabletop. Gibbs also took a seat.

"So?" Jethro asked.

"So, DiNozzo's girlfriend Monica's dead, murdered."

"She wasn't his girlfriend, you know that."

Jethro knew Tobias was aware of that fact because he himself had told him. Fornell had dropped by the hospital that first night. He had heard through the grapevine that Tony had been shot and kept Gibbs company a while before DiNozzo woke up. Tobias had gotten an earful about Monica before she appeared and confirmed all the bad things Gibbs had said about her.

Jethro had appreciated Tobias coming by for Jethro, knowing he wouldn't be back to visit Tony. An acquaintance begun by a toss out onto the beltway and including incarceration for murder wasn't conducive to affectionate bedside chats. But, Gibbs knew that, even though the two men irritated the hell out of each other, there was a begrudging , disguised respect between them whether they would ever admit it or not and neither would ever wish harm on the other.

"Yeah, I know that," Fornell said. "But, the people who make and watch the local news don't. I talked to the LEOs handling the case. Somebody from WBRZ, after the story came in, gave them DiNozzo's name as significant other. I got a heads up because we got a ping."

Gibbs scowled, wondering why Monica Wilson's death would register on the FBI's radar. Tobias raised a hand and extended a thumb and index finger almost touching.

"Just a little one. She was small potatoes, a paid informant on an op a few years back out of Cleveland. Rolled on her sugar daddy who was a money launderer for the top dogs. There's no indication they ever made her so she should have been safe. She got immunity and never had to testify and her files are sealed as part of the deal. Even if they had made her, she was way down on the food chain, not worth killing to make a point so long after the fact and the convictions. But, early on, everybody involved was entered into the system so we'd know if there were any hits. This doesn't look like a hit; it looks personal. No sexual assault, no robbery. Just over-kill."

He slid the envelope over to Gibbs who pulled out the printouts of Metro police reports and crime scene photos.

Monica Wilson, from Jethro's experience, was not a good person and his gut told him she was even worse than he knew. Still, it was an offense to see the unrecognizable, gory mess that was all that was left of the once superficially beautiful face.

"I told them she and DiNozzo weren't really an item," Tobias said. "Let WBRZ know, too. They haven't released her identity yet because they can't find any next of kin to notify. Metro wants to talk to DiNozzo, see if she said anything useful. You, too. You two could be the last to talk to her. I held them off questioning him since it was late; told them you'd get in touch about getting together with them sometime tomorrow."

Gibbs nodded his thanks to Fornell for forestalling any questioning until Gibbs could give Tony a heads up. Jehtro was even more grateful for the damage control Tobias had done by alerting all involved that DiNozzo and Wilson weren't lovers. Tony had more than paid the price for his mistake of asking the woman out and didn't need his name and reputation entwined with the sordid details of her murder and her life.

"They just found her today after neighbors complained of the smell," Tobias said. "TOD estimated five or six days ago. They got tissue from under her nails, so they'll have DNA to run."

"Any leads?"

Fornell shook his head.

"None. They canvassed her building. She didn't have any friends there and was especially unpopular with the wives. She moved in about four months ago, no job they've found. She had gentlemen callers, but none that hung around long enough to look like a steady thing."

"But, that doesn't mean there wasn't one or one that wishes he was. Somebody who'd put up with the personality to get their hands on the package it was wrapped in. The timing fits. She's on TV gushing over DiNozzo and, within 24 hours, she's bashed to death in a classic rage M.O. with no other apparent motive. If it was a jealous lover or fixated nutjob..."

Gibbs nodded, acknowledging and seconding Fornell's unvoiced but understood concerns. He again felt a flare of anger toward Monica Wilson. He would have never wished that awful ending on her but neither he would waste a second mourning her passing. Tony had almost died saving her life; a life that had only hours remaining while DiNozzo was left with months of painful recovery. And, because of her lying grab for the spotlight, Tony's life could still be in danger.


	6. Chapter 6

The next morning, Gibbs got the couch ready. Under usual circumstances, it was good to sleep on as-was; Jethro spent many nights on it himself and Tony had comfortably crashed there often. But, injured, Tony needed more room than the couch alone gave. Since all the beds in the house were upstairs, this time, for the first time, DiNozzo would sleep on its fold-out mattress.

Days ago, Gibbs had pulled open the old sofa and flopped down onto it. He wanted to be sure it was as comfortable as he remembered and the support bars wouldn't dig into DiNozzo's back. If they had, he'd planned on buying a foam topper. It was fine, though, made up now with extra pillows tossed on top of the bedspread to elevate or relieve pressure as needed, ready and waiting for Tony to come home to.

* * *

Jethro tapped once on the door before entering, surprising DiNozzo.

"Hey, Boss. You're about five hours early. I appreciate the enthusiasm, but they said they won't spring me before 2:00 at the earliest."

Tony looked up at him with a wide grin on his pale and thinner face and Gibbs hated to be the bearer of bad news on a day that should have been a good one. Figuring it was best to get it over with, Jethro jumped right in.

"Monica Wilson was murdered, probably the same day we last saw her. Her face was bashed in; no rape, no robbery. Just over-kill."

Tony blinked once up at him, shocked. Just as the stunned expression began to give way to something else, Gibbs spoke again.

"It's too damn bad it didn't happen a couple days earlier."

DiNozzo's eyebrows shot up at Jethro's cold declaration, deliberately not softened with a preceding 'If it had to happen...' or any other hint of compassion for the victim. It was a thought bound to occur to Tony, wrapped in anger, that he'd paid a high price to buy the woman only a few more hours of life.

If any of that anger, during his long, grueling recovery, strayed past blaming fate to be aimed at Monica herself, Gibbs hoped his preemptive strike would spare DiNozzo any twinge of guilt for thinking it. Jethro might have harshened the delivery for Tony's benefit, but it was still true. If she was bound to die, he sure as hell wished she'd died before DiNozzo was hurt. Before Tony could respond, Gibbs spoke again.

"Could be a reaction to all her blabbing on TV. If she had somebody, or somebody that wanted her, that could have set them off-her going on about you like you two were about to get hitched. It was rage; could've been jealous rage. If that's the case, they could come after you. Or, it could be unrelated. She had to have pissed off plenty of people. Metro wants to talk to you, see if she said anything they could use."

* * *

Four days after he had taken Tony home, Gibbs sat in the squad room with a manila folder open on his desk. He had asked that Metro PD share any information gathered in the Wilson homicide. CODIS had produced a match tying Monica Wilson's murder to a sixteen year old cold case from New York state. Once the DC cops had received the file, they'd forwarded copies on to Gibbs.

The pages in the file described the homicide of fifteen year old David Karakowski. DNA said that the same perp that had battered to death the teenage New Yorker in 1994 had, a few days ago, killed Monica Wilson in a similar manner.

The murder weapon in Karakowski's case had been an eight inch chunk of stone from a forest floor; in Wilson's case it had been a wrought iron lamp from her den end table. Both their faces had been battered way beyond recognition. The MO was similar. But, the disparity between victims, different ages and genders, pointed away from either homicide being a premeditated crime of jealous, romance-related passion and more towards spontaneous eruptions of violent rage.

The portrait drawn of David Karakowski from investigative interviews and juvenile records was a dark one, especially for one so young. A bully whose anti-social and criminal behavior had begun early and was on an ever- escalating track up until his death. His was a personality that could easily provoke retaliatory rage, a character trait he shared with Monica Wilson.

The tie to Karakowski's murder was good news for DiNozzo. Since DiNozzo claimed to be unconcerned about any danger to himself, it should have been even better news for Jethro, should have calmed his worries. It had only been a possible danger before, never a clear and present threat. The identity of the killer's prior victim made it even less likely he'd come after Tony. But, Jethro's gut had been twitching since Tony had left the hospital and the new information didn't put it at ease.

Jethro hadn't wanted to leave Tony alone at his house. He had spent most of Tony's first couple of days in the hospital there with him. From the third day on, he'd visited each day but kept almost regular work hours. He and McGee had wrapped up the paperwork on their one active case that had been solved the day before Tony's restaurant run-in. With Ziva vacationing in Miami and DiNozzo off the roster, his team wouldn't be taking anymore new cases until Ziva's return.

It was a perfect time for Gibbs to take some of his months of accumulated vacation time to keep Tony company and ease his own worry. But, Tony had made it clear he didn't need or want any baby sitters; he preferred to suffer in private after his exposed time spent in the hospital. Jethro didn't like it but, for the most part, he let DiNozzo have his way.

Every other day, a nurse came by and a physical therapist was due today for the first of ongoing, twice weekly visits. In spite of Gibbs' intuition, there was no justification for an official protection detail, even if Tony would have agreed to one. Unofficially, Jethro had arranged for a county cruiser to go by the house at least once an hour until he got home from work.

Abby and Tim made contact with DiNozzo throughout every day by email and phone calls, letting Gibbs know each time they checked that Tony was fine. Jethro had dug out a couple of keys to his front door, one for himself and one for Tony, and demanded DiNozzo keep all the doors locked. He'd taken one of his personal weapons from his gun safe and insisted Tony keep both it and his cell phone with him in the chair at all times. But, even with all the precautions and the new, added reassurance he should have found in the Karakowski file, Gibbs gut insisted a threat was out there, waiting.

* * *

Roger parked, grabbed the paperback book from the passenger seat and left his car. He walked down the path to a pond not visible from the street, happy to see his preferred bench was empty. He liked this place, discovered during his deliberations and searches trying to decide how first to approach Tony. Today he wasn't researching or planning. He was just out to enjoy the sunny day and this place and the enticing knowledge that Tony was close by.

He was in the middle now of two weeks sick leave due to the injury to his arm. Roger had already put in for a week's vacation time after the sick leave expired. He wanted to make contact with Tony before he went back to work and, if he needed to extend his vacation time, he could. Since Tony wouldn't be able to return to work for a while, he thought that maybe they could go off together for a few days, take the opportunity to really bond and hurry the deep friendship Roger envisioned. It was only the promise of that eventual bond that contained Roger's impatience, that had kept him from jeopardizing it all by moving too quickly.

He had the time; he never took vacations so he had plenty of vacation time saved up. He had the money to go wherever he chose. Money she knew nothing about. She thought she was in total control of his finances and his life. Roger smiled at how wrong she was. She had no clue about his second bank account. The saving had been stealthy, accumulating over years, starting with Carol back when he had first imagined a different, better life.

That hope of a better life was lost when he lost Carol. But, he'd continued to save money. The nest egg was a secret revenge, a bit of hidden power and control in his own hands. Every so often, when she'd be especially nasty, he'd consider walking out and leaving her to fend on her own. In the past, they'd been only fleeting thoughts rather than real intentions. He could easily do it. Between his savings and his wages, he'd be fine financially on his own.

But, even for what she was, she was all he had. He might have lived under crushing loneliness under their shared roof, but he'd never lived alone, never been absolutely alone in the world. Some part of Old Roger had still craved family enough that he had been willing to endure her. Not for much longer, though. Soon, he'd have Tony and would sever the toxic tie that had bound him his whole life. From the start, she had cast him as a parasite, a burden she was forced to bear. She was in for a very rude awakening when he abandoned her like she had abandoned him.

That awakening would come soon. He'd been looking at apartments and had found one in Tony's complex that would be available to move-in in less than two weeks. Although it was perfect, he'd forced himself to look at others. He'd debated with himself, wondering if that was too much, possibly off-putting to Tony. But, it wasn't in his same building and close friends should be happy to live close by. Unable to resist the thought of living so near Tony, Roger had dismissed his concerns and signed the lease, his hand almost trembling with the anticipation of all the future held.

It was hard to wait. But, he'd decided early on that it would have to wait until after Tony's release from the hospital. Roger may be non-descript, but he had been in an elevator with Monica soon before her death and it wasn't wise to return when it was possible his presence might jog a memory. Plus, it was a confined and static and dreary space with no opportunity to talk alone uninterrupted by visitors or nurses.

Once he decided against a hospital visit, his next decision had been whether to admit he'd sought out Tony or to contrive a chance meeting, as if fate alone was what brought the two of them together again. He still hadn't made that final decision, but was leaning towards the destiny scenario. It was so tempting, as he sat here knowing Tony was so close that he could, in the space of only a few minutes, walk right over and knock on the door and speak to him for the first time in two decades. The fact that he could do that very thing right this very minute was both exhilarating and nerve wracking. He'd driven by the house on his way to the park. Gibbs' car wasn't there, Tony was alone. Outside having to drop the chance meeting angle, there was nothing stopping him

The wall had, as hoped, done the job. The three furrows Monica had clawed into his arm were now obliterated beneath the damage done by the stones' edges. Although he had witnesses to the injury, it was still best not to draw attention to it. The bulky dressing had earlier today been replaced by his doctor with a gauze pad, not noticeable beneath the loose long sleeves of the shirt he wore.

It hadn't been difficult, through a few phone calls and Internet research, to find Tony's home and get the names and addresses of Tony's team members.

Roger had gone to Tony's address first then cased all the dwellings of Tony's team mates. If he was to engineer a chance meeting, he had to plan the place it would occur. He had been happy to discover that there was a pizza place within walking distance of Tony's apartment. Tony's professed love of pizza and the one they'd shared were clear memories of their time together and Roger thought the pizza parlor was a promising place to run into him.

McGee and David's apartments weren't situated near any likely locations. Tony might not be close enough friends with them to be around their places often, if ever. He might not like, might even dis-like his co-workers. But, Roger had plenty of time, so he checked them all out.

He had saved Gibbs' house for last. During his research, Roger had come across an archived news article with a photo of Jethro Gibbs angrily pushing his way past news crews, refusing to comment. The sight of Gibbs' face had, very unexpectedly, triggered a constricting chill in Roger's chest, as if instinct was warning him of danger.

That gut feeling had him on edge the first time he'd driven by the address. The house didn't match the man. It looked homey and inviting with well-kept flower beds and shrubs; a warm family exterior rather than hard and cold as its owner's demeanor.

Roger had ventured there on foot the second time he'd gone by the house. Uneasy as the thought of crossing paths with Gibbs made him, the same instinct that had deemed him a threat had compelled him back to the man's home. He'd left his car at the park and walked the sidewalk on the opposite side of the street to stand across from the house. That was when he had seen the wooden ramp over the porch steps and knew that was where Tony would go once he was out of the hospital.

That was where Tony was now. Knowing that made it hard to focus to read, hard to resist going right now to Tony. But, even though Gibbs wasn't home now, Roger didn't want to approach Tony while he was in Gibbs' house. Hard as it was to wait, he'd already waited twenty years and, knowing the day would come soon, he could wait a bit more.

* * *

DiNozzo sat on the back patio, eyes closed, face upturned to the sunshine. He'd been trying, for the last thirty minutes, to will away the jagged ache in his bones and the burning in his flesh, agonizingly amplified by the exercises meant to make them ready for when he could fully use them again. He'd taken Motrin prior to the therapy and had popped four more after the therapist had left and they were finally beginning to kick in. He had the heavy duty, prescribed pain meds that he was supposed to take sitting inside on the end table. But, he couldn't face another day of the dull, drowsy lethargy.

He'd rolled himself out the back door, feeling frustrated and trapped in the house, confined by his physical limitations, forbidden to even attempt to stand on his own two feet. He'd gone outside hoping to escape the feeling of the walls closing in, the pain adding to the cabin fever. It was a beautiful, warm but crisp, fall day, but he still felt trapped inside the fenced yard.

He couldn't wait to stand and walk again, couldn't wait to be back on the job and useful again, couldn't wait to escape the pain and weakness and limitations. Impatient as he was, though, he wouldn't ignore the dire warnings from both his hospital doctors and Dr. Mallard. He wasn't fool enough to jeopardize the healing process and make the recovery longer.

He already had, at the very least, a month to get through before he'd be allowed to even sit at his desk again, weeks more after that before he'd be cleared for field work. It was a maddening thought to be that long out of action but he forced himself to accept it. And, much as he longed to, he had no choice but to wait a few more days to escape the wheelchair. But, once the pain was down to a manageable level, he could escape the yard.

Gibbs would have his hide for going out alone, Ducky would warn him that he wasn't physically up to it. But, what they didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

Gibbs was just being a worry wort; there was no evidence anyone was gunning for Tony. Just in case, DiNozzo had Gibbs' backup SIG tucked into a pocket that hung inside the wheelchair's left arm. Ducky would have to admit that Tony's mental health was very important to his overall well being and recovery. He was going stir crazy; weak, dependent, trapped in the house and in this chair. A brief fling with independence and a change of scenery would be just what the doctor ordered.

There was a park nearby, only a few blocks of level sidewalk away. With the SIG for protection and his phone to call for help if he faltered, he'd be fine. Gibbs wasn't due home for hours. Tony had time to sneak away for a taste of freedom, on his own, and neither of them need ever know.


	7. Chapter 7

As Tony touched wheels to the asphalt of the park's parking lot, he stopped, relieved he'd made it. The pleasure outing had quickly turned into a grueling endurance test. Half a mile hadn't seemed far at all before he'd set out. But, it had seemed to take forever to reach his destination. With each succeeding turn of the wheels, the movement of his left arm transferred to tug at his chest, intensifying the pain in his ribs and the torn and stitched flesh over them.

Underlying the pain was the weakness. He was wiped out, more exhausted than if he'd run ten miles healthy. He'd done fine at home and thought he'd do fine the few blocks to the park. He hadn't taken into consideration that he never went more than a few yards at a time at home.

He'd been stupid and he was paying for it now. He could make it back on his own, with huge effort and lots of stops to rest and lots more pain. But, that would be even more stupid than coming in the first place. Tony sighed and was about to reach for his phone to call a cab when he saw the man walking toward him, stopping about ten feet away.

There was nothing outwardly threatening about the man, no weapon, only a paperback book in one hand. He was about thirty years old, 5'10, pudgy and pale with thinning blond hair. It was the hinky, mesmerized look on his face as he stared directly at DiNozzo that prompted Tony to reach into the pocket and take the SIG in hand, still hidden but at the ready.

* * *

When Roger first saw Tony suddenly there, he froze, disbelieving. When it registered it was real, not wishes, he was stunned, then exhilarated, then terrified. It was too soon. He wasn't ready, he didn't have the first words straight in his head, he wasn't wearing the shirt he'd bought that was the exact right shade of blue. A panic began thumping in his chest.

Then, Tony spotted him, obviously instantly suspicious. Why wouldn't he be suspicious? He was standing there gaping at Tony like a deranged idiot. Fate had given Roger his chance and Roger was about to ruin everything. He fought against the panic, forcing himself a step closer but stopped when he saw Tony further tense in reaction.

"Tony?"

Roger spoke, not knowing yet what to say, what tack he would take to explain his appearance after so many years. But, he was desperate to save the moment, he had to do something.

"Maybe. Who are you?"

Roger came a few steps closer.

"Roger. Roger Walker."

Tony squinted up at him as if trying to place the face and name.

"I know you?"

Roger nodded.

"A long time ago, when I was little, in Hartsville. When my grandmother had the accident, I called and you came."

Roger's heart fell when he saw the memory register on Tony's expression. Tony quickly covered with a forced smile but not before Roger discovered the memory wasn't a good one for Tony.

"Oh, okay. Yeah, I remember."

His heart fell further in the few awkward, silent seconds before Tony spoke again.

"So, how've you been? What brings you to these parts?"

"I've-"

Tony's phone rang, interrupting Roger's answer. Roger saw him glance at the display, wince then huff out a low but emphatic "Shit!" Tony looked up to him and put a finger to his lip, ordering Roger silent. He answered the phone in a bright tone at odds with his demeanor.

"Hey, Boss. What's up?"

After a couple of seconds, Tony grimaced but kept his tone light. "What kind of question is that? Where would I-?"

"Oh." Tony said in response to whatever he'd heard from the other end of the line. He sighed and dropped the cheery tone. "I'm at the park." He scowled through a few seconds of listening.

"I'm fine. I was just on my way back. I-" Tony winced again and shut the phone.

"Run, Roger. He's pissed and he's on his way."

"What's-?"

"Just go, okay." Tony cut him off. "Make yourself scarce or you'll get caught in the fallout."

"But, we didn't get a chance to talk. I'd like-"

"Give me your number, then. Quick."

"I don't have anything to write-"

"I'll remember."

"679-555-4323."

"Got it. Bye."

"Is something wrong? Are you going to be okay?"

"Nothing's wrong, I'll be fine. It's just that I'm about to have my ass handed to me and I don't need an audience."

"But-"

"Go!"

Given no choice, Roger followed the order as far as his car. Through the passenger window, he had a view of Tony's back. He sat behind the wheel, worried for Tony and watching.

* * *

Gibbs kept quiet as he wheeled DiNozzo back to his house. DiNozzo was also very atypically silent. Tony hadn't spoken a word since he'd greeted Jethro with a big grin and an antagonizingly sunny "Where's the bread for the ducks?"

Jethro had responded with a head slap immediately followed by a "What the hell were you thinking?" rant. The rant was cut short when Gibbs caught sight of a woman watching, distressed and protectively clutching her child against her body. He shut up then, grabbed the back handles of the chair and shoved DiNozzo forward towards home.

Once they were inside, Gibbs let go of the chair and Tony wheeled himself to beside the couch, his back to Gibbs. DiNozzo was obviously pissed. He was also obviously wrung out and hurting bad. If he was going to pull a fool stunt like that, he shouldn't have done it right after his first bout of therapy.

"When are you due the pain meds again?" Jethro asked.

DiNozzo shrugged. "Now, I guess."

"When did you last take it?"

"Last night."

Gibbs bit his tongue, forcing himself not to get started on another tirade cataloging all the ways Tony was being an idiot. He grabbed and opened the pill bottle, shook a tablet in to his palm, got the open bottle of water from the end table then shoved both at Tony who took them and downed the pill.

Jethro saw Tony spot the Karakowski file lying on the sofa bed. He glanced from it to Gibbs then away, ignoring both Gibbs and the file. So, he wasn't going to ask, he was going to carry on with the sullen silent treatment.

Gibbs had tossed the file there when he'd come into the house. He'd meant to show it to Tony. Now, he was in no hurry to share the information. It would make his reaction to Tony's outing seem even more unjustified than Tony already believed it was.

But, it wasn't only the possible outside danger that had set Jethro off. It was the physical repercussions, the damage over-exertion could do to his healing body.

Gibbs went to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee and put some distance between them, give Tony time to get over being pissed at him. The effects of the pain meds should help to lighten his mood. Gibbs wasn't about to break his no apology rule for reacting to DiNozzo's pigheaded stupidity. Maybe he had taken it a touch over the top by making a public spectacle that terrorized women and children. But, DiNozzo had brought it on himself.

After fifteen minutes of sitting at the table sipping coffee, Gibbs went to the freezer and pulled out a tub of Bluebell pralines and cream ice cream and set it on the counter. He opened the refrigerator to grab the caramel syrup and milk, hesitating as he eyed the can of whipped cream and jar of maraschino cherries. Tony's second night home, Abby had brought over all the fixings and made DiNozzo his favorite milkshake, the fluffy white topping dented and stained red all over with an overload of the fruit.

He pushed the fridge door closed leaving the whipped cream and cherries untouched. DiNozzo could pout all night if he wanted; Jethro refused to go froufrou over one head slap.

* * *

When Gibbs returned to the den, Tony was reclined against the couch back, his legs stretched out on his bed and the cold case file open on his lap. Gibbs walked to stand beside the sofa's arm. Tony pointedly ignored him, refusing to react to his presence.

Jethro rolled his eyes and reached the milkshake in view in front of Tony's face. DiNozzo hesitated a moment, looking at the shake then squinting up sidelong at Gibbs before he grabbed the peace offering and took a long sip through the straw.

The fact that DiNozzo didn't thank him meant he was being stubborn, not ready yet to let go of his crappy mood. But, Jethro knew he wouldn't hold out much longer. If the meds and milkshake together didn't do the trick, curiosity would finish the job.

Gibbs took his coffee and sat in the easy chair. Displaced for now, the coffee table was pushed against the recliner and held a stack of magazines gathered up by his team mates for DiNozzo's entertainment. Jethro took one from the top, put on his glasses and settled in to wait; two could play the 'I'm ignoring you' game.

After a while, he heard the slurp indicating the last of the shake then the clink of the spoon against glass as Tony caught and consumed the pecan pieces left at the bottom. There was the sound of the glass being set on the end table, followed by the sound of Tony's voice.

"Who's David Karakowski?"


End file.
